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For Thy Name's Sake, 



AND 



OTHER POEMS 



BY MILLIE COLCORD. 






PORTLAND, ME.: 

HOYT, FOGG & DONHAM. 

1878. 

T 






C 



Entered according to act of Congress in the year 1878, by J. W. 

CoLCORD, in the office of the Librarian of 

Congress, at Washington, D. C. 



VRESS OF B. THURSTON & CO., PORTLAND. 



(tonttntn. 

PoRTRAiT (taken December, 1S77), . frontispiece 

DEVOTIONAL. 

PAGE 

For thy Name's sake, 25 

My Work, 26 

My Strength, 27 

Another Year, 29 

My Way, 30 

On the Shore, 32 

My Birds, 33 

Waiting, 34 

Life's weaving, 35 

The Flitting of the Leaves, . . . -37 

Alone with Jesus, 39 

Room for All, 41 

Anniversary Hymn, 43 

A Christmas Story, 44 

A Call to Prayer, 46 

Guided, 48 

My Pictures, 49 

Christmas Carol, 51 

Trust, 53 

A Little While, 54 

A Lesson, 55 

The Song of the Shell, 56 



4 CONTENTS, 

Faith, 58 

Heart Treasures, .60 

The Fern, 61 

A Song for the Reapers, . . . .62 

The Rock, 64 

At Evening, 65 

God's Will, 67 

Under the Shadow of the Almighty, . . 68 

A Hymn of Praise, 69 

Laid Aside, 71 

Look Upward, 73 

God's Choice the Best, 74 

Living for Jesus, 76 

An Invitation, 'j'] 

Heavenward, 79 

The Heavenly Country, 80 

The River, . 83 

miscellaneous. 

Bird-Life, 86 

Dant)Elions, 87 

A Dream, 88 

Forget-me-not, 91 

Nine Months Old, 91 

A Festival Song, 94 

To A Bobolink, 95 

pictures and thoughts, 

I. Pansies. 2. Baby Faces, .... 97 

3. Roses. 4. Butterflies. 5. Fruit, . . . 98 
6. Birds. 7. Flowers. 8. Animals, . . .99 

9. Ferns. 10. Autumn Leaves. 11. Closing Page, 100 



Born Aug. 15, ISSg. Died March 16, 1878. 

TT is in response to the earnest wish of 
-'■ loving, personal friends of the writer of 
these poems, that a few pages are given to 
some glimpses of the life and character of one 
whose early '* going home " has made so sad a 
break in the circle which she helped to make 
pleasant and joyous. One other thought also 
has had an influence in leading to the prepara- 
tion of this sketch, — the wish to add another 
proof that a faithful Christian life is not incon- 
sistent with the thorough freedom and natural- 
ness of child-life ; but, on the contrary, makes 
that life far more joyous and renders the young 
mind doubly appreciative of all the beautiful 
things in the world about us. 

The subject of this sketch was not naturally 
of a rugged constitution, though with care she 
enjoyed comparatively good health. In child- 
hood she was quiet, somewhat reserved, very 



6 MILLIE COLCORD, 

fond of reading, and delighted in flowers, the 
woods, and the sea-shore. With the children of 
her age she passed the usual course of study in 
the public schools ; yet from a very early age she 
enjoyed choice books of prose and poetry, and 
the quiet corner with a favorite author was 
generally preferred to out-door play with her 
school companions. She was, from early 
childhood, an enthusiastic walker, and in her 
frequent excursions through forest, field, or by 
the sea, flowers, mosses, and shells were made 
tributary to her enjoyment. 

She was always reverent ot sacred things, 
constant in her attendance at the Sunday- 
school and church ; but not until she was four- 
teen years old did she cherish a hope that she 
was a child of God. Her religious experience 
was characteristic of the workings of her mind. 
There was no special religious interest at the 
time, but for some weeks she had appeared 
more thoughtful than usual, and less inclined 
to seek the society of her schoolmates. The 
question of duty was considered and decided 
in her own mind, and one evening, on which a 
meeting of the church committee at the pas- 
tor's house had been appointed to confer with 



MILLIE COLCORD. 7 

those wishing to unite with the church, she 
expressed her intention to attend. She made 
known to the committee her wish to unite with 
the church ; and to them, and subsequently to 
the church, the relation of her religious expe- 
rience was intelligent and singularly clear. 
She was baptized the first week in May, 1874, 
and the covenant which she then entered into 
with the church was very sacred to her till her 
death. She enjoyed all the appointed meet- 
ings of the church, and nothing over which 
she had control was ever permitted to interfere 
with her attendance upon them. It was not a 
matter of words, nor of conscience merely ; 
but instinctively, as the bird seeks its nest, or 
the child the restful enjoyment of home, she 
sought the service of the sanctuary and the 
place of social prayer. She would sing softly 
to herself from her favorite hymns when alone, 
and often after she retired to rest her voice 
would be heard, sometimes for an hour or 
more, humming the sweet songs which she had 
gathered in her memor}\ 

She entered the high school when she was 
sixteen, and the year and a half which elapsed 
from her entrance to her last sickness was a 



8 MILLIE COLCORD. 

period of very great enjoyment. She was 
younger in appearance than those of her age • 
but her mind was mature, and her intellectual 
and religious growth was very marked. She 
was conscientious in her school duties, earnest 
in the application of religious principle to the 
correction of faults in her life, and strong in 
the wish to find ways of usefulness in the ser- 
vice of the Master she loved. Her faith in 
prayer was very strong, for she had a trustful 
confidence in God, feeling sure that he would 
grant her prayer if that would be best for her. 
She went to him for little things as well as 
great, as a child would go to its parent. 

In the spring of 1876 she began to cherish 
more earnestly the wish to do some work for 
the Saviour, aside from the ordinary service 
incident to her home and school life. This 
feeling is indicated in the piece, *' My Work," 
written at that time. She had manifested an 
unusual facility of composition, and her moth- 
er having suggested that it might be her duty 
to consider this power as a talent committed 
to her, it appears from an entry in her diary 
that she resolved to make an effort to use it in 
this direction. Some time that summer she 



MILLIE COLCORD. 9 

wrote the piece, " My Strength," and the fol- 
lowing November, on her mother's birthday, 
she gave her the piece, ''Another Year." Two 
of these were published, before her illness, 
over the signature of " Pansy," the other ap- 
peared, after her sickness, over her own name. 

In saying that she had manifested a talent 
for writing, it should also be said that she her- 
self was apparently unconscious of its posses- 
sion. If at any time her school-work called 
for the use of this power, she readily resjDond- 
ed to the call ; but she had no thought of it as 
an unusual talent, nor were her friends aware 
of its extent until, in response to the suggestion 
referred to above, she called it into the service 
of her Master. 

In January, 1877, Mr. and Mrs. Needham 
conducted a series of meetings in Portland in 
which Millie and many of her young friends 
were much interested. The Bible-readings of 
Mr. Needham were especially valuable to her, 
and all through her subsequent illness she 
often referred to them as having given her a 
far more vivid idea of the extent and reality of 
God's promises in his word. In the short va- 
cation in the schools, which occurs in February, 



lo MILLIE COLCORD. 

she could attend nearly all the meetmgs held 
during the week's release from school-work, 
and it was a source of great joy to her to 
know of the conversion of many of her school- 
mates. 

At this time she was apparently in better 
health than she had ever been before, and en- 
tered upon the new school-term with glad 
anticipations of pleasant study and rapid pro- 
gress. But about the middle of March her 
friends were alarmed by a severe hemorrhage 
of the lungs. It first occurred one evening, 
just after she had retired to rest, and appeared 
at intervals for ten days, and resulted in leav- 
ing the left lung permanently diseased. Her 
strength rapidly declined, and for several 
weeks her life hung apparently by a mere 
thread. Her friends gave up all hope of her 
reco\ery, and when she herself, in answer to 
her questions, had been told by her mother 
that she would not recover, she lay in thought 
a little while, and then putting her arms about 
her she said, with a smile, " Mother, it is all 
right." 

She bore her suffering with uncomplaining 
patience, and after some weeks' confinement 



MILLIE COLCORD. n 

the scale turned in her favor, and she began 
slowly to gain strength. Her mental and relig- 
ious feeling during those days is expressed in 
the poem, " My Way," which she dictated to 
her mother after she was told she would not 
recover. When it was very doubtful as to her 
living through May, she expressed the wish 
that she might live till the strawberries came j 
and to her aunt she said that it would have 
been pleasant to live to finish her school- 
course, so as to give all her time to work for 
the Saviour. She did not wish to die, for she 
enjoyed life and all its pleasant associations ; 
yet she ever expressed her entire acquiescence . 
with God's will. She took each day as a gift 
from her heavenly Father, and rejoiced in it, 
leaving the future in the care of one to whom 
she felt that she could safely entrust her wel- 
fare for both worlds. The last of May she 
was able to sit up a little while, and gradually 
improved so that she could take short walks 
in the open air. She knew well that she held 
life by a frail tenure ; but life was more than 
pleasant to her, — she was joyous in its posses- 
sion, and her heart overflowed with thankful- 



12 MILLIE COLCORD. 

ness to her heavenly Father for all the pleasant 
things with which life was filled. 

With coming strength she began to compose 
the poems in this little volume, — most of them 
being suggested by scenes or experiences in 
her own life. As the evidence that they were 
received with favor and served to aid many in 
the Christian life came to her, she was filled 
with wonder that God gave her success in her 
humble efforts, and rejoiced that he had given 
her strength again to do a little work for him. 
A subject would suggest itself to her, and 
sometimes very quickly, at other times more 
slowly, she would finish the poem in her mind, 
and afterward dictate it, generally in its fin- 
ished form, to her mother. Five were written 
before her illness ; all the rest she composed 
between May and the following March, finish- 
ing the last one, "The River," about ten days 
before her death. She frequently had two or 
three in preparation at the same time ; and 
once, when her mother was busy through the 
illness of another member of the family, she 
had four completed ones in memory at once. 

She gained sufficient strength to spend a 



MILLIE COLCORD. 13 

week in the country, but the disease slowly 
progressed and her strength wasted away. 
She enjoyed the society of her friends, and 
with the little group of classmates who gath- 
ered about her she shared in the conversation 
over their school-life, interested in all their strug- 
gles, and entering fully into all the subjects 
that interested them. Her society was delight- 
ful to them, for she was always cheerful, hap- 
py in the assurance that her heavenly Father 
arranged everything in her life for the best, 
and imparting to all about her some of her 
own glad and grateful spirit. In the loving 
and thoughtful ministrations of her school- 
mates, teachers, and other friends, she recog- 
nized the ever-present love of God, and 
rendered to him the tribute of a loving and 
trusting heart. What God planned was always 
best for her, and she gave herself to his care 
with the confiding trust of a child. 

In the religious aspect of her character there 
was nothing unnatural or precocious, or not in 
accord with a thorough enjoyment of, or inter- 
est in, the ordinary duties and pursuits of daily 
life. When in health, in her extended walks 
in forest or field, among the hills or by the 



14 MILLIE COLCORD. 

sea-shore, the field-flowers, the mosses, the 
autumn leaves, the birds, and the shells were 
her companions and teachers, and left their 
pleasant memories to abide with her in her 
months of illness and attune her mind to His 
praise who had made a world so full of beauti- 
ful things. The religious element was the un- 
derlying principle of her character, but it did 
not cloud or fetter her natural temperament ; 
it turned all her thoughts into the right chan- 
nel, giving her a sure resting-place, and con- 
necting this life very closely with the unseen 
world. She did not often speak to her young 
friends upon the subject of religion, and yet 
the influence she exerted and the spirit she 
manifested alike told that this was the one 
great interest in her thoughts. This influence 
was especially strong the last year of her life, 
and some of her companions once, after one 
of their pleasant visits, happily expressed it in 
the remark, '' We love to come, for we always 
feel better for having been wdth her." 

The coming of the fall days confined her to 
the house again, and to her friends it was evi- 
dent that her disease was silently but surely 
progressing. In October she walked a few 



MILLIE COLCORD. 15 

Steps out doors and after that did not again 
leave the house. But she could be with the 
family and have her friends about her, while 
her happy and joyous spirit continued to rise 
above disease and throw its genial influence 
all around her. About two months before her 
death she was talking with her mother about 
the nearness of the unseen world to this ; to 
her it appeared like going but a little way, for 
the other life seemed but a part of this — the 
perfect part — and in a very little while we all 
should be together again. She also spoke of 
the one verse on which she lived, day by day : 
" He that believeth on the Son hath everlast- 
ing life." This life is not something belonging 
solely to the future ; it is a present possession, 
secured to the believer now. Sabbath morn- 
ings, in the closing months, she greatly en- 
joyed listening to the reading of " Pilgrim's 
Progress," and her father had finished the vol- 
ume except one reading. Together they had 
followed the pilgrims almost to the crossing of 
the river ; but the day before the reading 
would have been finished, she herself had 
crossed the river and joined the shining host 
on the other side. 



1 6 MILLIE COLCORD. 

She suffered more from her cough in these 
last days, but was mercifully preserved from 
acute suffering, not only then, but through all 
her sickness. It was surprising to her that 
any of her friends should ever speak any 
words of commiseration or pity in reference to 
her illness or confinement to the house, and 
consequent deprivation of her accustomed out- 
door enjoyments and privileges. As she talked 
with her schoolmates and entered heartily into 
all their plans of vacation-life, no shadow of 
complaint or regret marred her pleasure in their 
joy, or lessened her sympathy in all that inter- 
ested them. The spirit that is breathed in her 
poems was the pervading spirit of her daily 
and hourly life in those months of weakness, 
and she never tired of expressing her grateful 
love to Him who had bestowed upon her bles- 
sings so rich and abundant. 

About a week before her death she failed so 
perceptibly that it was evident to her friends 
that the end was not distant. But she did not 
miss joining the family at meal time except on 
one occasion, and every day she welcomed her 
friends with her accustomed cheerfulness. 
Friday, the day before she died, she spent the 



MILLIE COLCORD. ^7 

usual time down-stairs, and in the afternoon 
greatly enjoyed a visit from one of her teach- 
ers and several of her schoolmates, and re- 
mained down to tea. She seemed a little 
more tired than usual on retiring, and was 
restless through the night, suffering at times 
from the pressure upon her lungs. In these 
times of suffering she wished her forehead to 
be smoothed or her hands to be held closely, 
and once when her mother held them she said 
"hold them tight," and resting a moment, she 
said to her mother, " How good that is ; it 
seems just as though they were in God's 
hands." 

In the morning she asked if she was very 
sick, and being told that she was, wished to 
know if she should live through the day. A 
doubt being expressed, she wished to see her 
physician ; and inquiring of him how long he 
thought she might live, he said that it was not 
at all probable that she would live beyond the 
middle of the afternoon, and he added, " I 
suppose, Millie, you are anxious to go." " Not 
anxious, doctor, but willing," she answered. 
One of the family speaking of the bright, 



lo MILLIE COLCORD. 

sunny morning out doors, she said, '' It is 
pleasant in here." * 

A^ery soon after the ph\-sician's departure 
she began to fail rapidly; about an hour be- 
fore her death she said to her father, " Is this 
dying ? " and being told that it was, she added, 
" Will it be any harder than this ? " She men- 
tioned some loved friends by name and left 
little gifts for them, and spoke loving words to 
those about her. In a clear, strong voice she 
repeated her favorite Scripture. " He that 
believeth on the Son hath everlasting life." 
She rested quietly, occasionally looking up 
with a questioning gaze, — not anxious, but 
wondering, — a pleasant smile sometimes com- 
ing to her countenance. Once, to her mother, 
asking her, " Do you have pleasant thoughts .'' " 
she said, " Yes ; " and to the further question, 
" Can you give them to us ? " she gently re- 
plied, " Not now." She composed herself as 
if for rest, and with the pleasant, peaceful 
look that ever came to her countenance in 
slumber, she slept to earth, to awake in para- 
dise. Blessed sleep ! Blessed awaking ! 

Pure in heart, child-like in spirit, and ear- 
nestly desiring to honor her Master, she her- 



MILLIE COL CORD. 19 

self was honored by him in being permitted to 
do much for his cause. To her. in previous 
months, had come letters and messages from 
strangers, expressive of the comfort in afflic- 
tion, support under trial, and encouragement 
to faith and hope that had come to them 
through her hymns ; and after her departure, 
there came to her parents other letters from 
strangers, bearing words of sympathy, and sor- 
row for the death of one whom they had 
learned to love for the pure spirit in, and the 
precious influence coming from, her writings. 
With such a letter, to the editor of the Zioii's 
Advocate, was sent the following tribute to her 
memory, by Mrs. Anna Sargent Hunt, of 
Augusta, Me., who knew her only through her 
poems published in that paper : 

THOUGHTS SUGGESTED BY THE DEATH OF 
MILLIE COLCORD, 

Sang the voice for which we listened, 
Week by week, its notes of praise, 

Soft and low, then glad uprising. 
Earnest of the coming days. 

For her soul, its pinions pluming 
"Toward the day of its release. 

Looked within the veil, discerning, 
Just beyond, its home of peace. 



20 MILLIE COLCORD. 

In our hearts her words descending 

Chased away our doubts and fear, 
Bade us cease our sad repinings, 

And behold our Helper near; 
Bade us trust in sweet assurance, 

Every day, a Father's care, 
Knowing that no morrow bringeth 

More than he will help us bear. 

Singing, too, the young believer. 

Of the " little while " to come, 
When, within the many mansions. 

Weary, tired ones find their home. 
Hardly ceases yet the echo, 

But the " little while " is past, 
Kept for her the Master's promise, , 

" Face to face," she stands at last. 

Short her life, but, calmly list'ning, 

She the call at noonday heard ; 
Spoke of peace and sweet contentment 

While her pulses feebly stirred. 
Gently loosing all her fetters, 

Came the Friend who loved her best, 
Telling us that so he giveth 

To his own beloved rest. 

Hark ! the captive soul untrammeled, 

Richer, nobler anthem sings. 
Praise to him, its costly ransom. 

Glory to the King of kings. 
Saviour, grant to those who sorrow, 

Priceless boon, thy mighty love, 
Grace to guide us through earth's shadows 

To the world of light above. 



MILLIE COLCORD. 2i 

A correspondent of the Christian Mirror^ 
Mrs. Sophie H. Ellis, of Bangor, Me., also a 
stranger to her, wrote the following for that 
journal : 

MILLIE COLCORD. 

Broken the alabaster vase, 

And hidden from our mortal eyes, 
To us remains the ointment poured 

Whose precious perfume never dies; 
But like some fragrant incense rare. 

Uprising to the great white throne. 
So strong and pure, so sweet and fair, 

The breathings of her soul had grown. 

I've listened for her harp's glad ring 
As if for me its chords were swept, 

Nor would I miss the quivering string 
That told the singer, too, had wept ; 

Sometimes a trembling sweetness thrilled 
A moment, from some hidden pain, 

And then, in accents brave and strong, 

The song of praise poured forth again. 



And often, to m}' weary heart, 

Like some pure unction from above, 
Appeared the words of her strong faith. 

Her clinging trust, her fervent love ; 
Uplifting from life's daily care, 

Where struggling scarce the tide I stem, 
Her gentle hand would lead me where 

She "touched the Master's garment hem. 



22 MILLIE COLCORD. 

For " his name's sake " she gladly gave 

Her mind's rich treasures for our need ; 
Close clinging to the Father's hand, 

Content whate'er his love decreed ; 
How soon her sweet evangel's o'er, 

Her young life's burdens all laid down, 
Her feet have touched the shining shore 

Where wait the golden harp and crown. 

She died on Saturday, and her Sabbath was 
passed in that "sweet summer-land" whither 
her heavenly Father had led her. Beautiful in 
death, her form rested peacefully amid the 
fjowers that loving friends had strown about 
it ; but the voice that was silent on earth had 
joined in the glad songs of the " better land," 
and she too had *' seen her King." 

We close this brief sketch with some extracts 
from an article in the Zioiis Advocate of March 
20, 1S78, written by Rev. H. S. Burrage, editor 
of that journal : 

" Little did we think last week, when we placed in 
the printer's hands the poem on Faith, which will be 
found on our first page, that the writer would have 
passed away before her beautiful reproduction of the 
Scripture narrative could be laid before our readers. 
Millie Colcord, the dearly beloved daughter of the for- 
Txer editor of the Advocate, died at her father's resi- 



MILLIE COLCORD. 23 

dence in this city, Saturday forenoon, at twenty minutes 
past eleven o'clock, aged eighteen years and seven 
months, and was buried on Monday. She had been ill 
a long time, and for a long time had known that recov- 
ery was not to be expected ; and when suddenly, Sat- 
urday morning, the summons came, she felt that her 
hands were in God's hands, as she expressed it, and en- 
tered into rest as sweetly as a little child falls asleep at 
the close of the day. Truly ' of such is the kingdom of 
heaven.' 

" She was a delicate child, of a nature so timid that, 
like the woman whose faith she recounts in her poem 
this week, she would never have thought of attracting 
the Master's attention. It was enough for her if .only 
she might touch the hem of his garment, and so be 
made whole. And thus it was in all her intercourse 
with her associates. Self was lost to sight, and she 
thought only of others. 

" She always wrote, as she herself has said, for the 
Lord's sake. The talent he had given her she desired 
to use for his glory. One of her poems, ' For thy 
Name's sake,' expresses very beautifully, yet simply, 
this thought of her heart. 

" She will be greatly missed, not only at home, but 
by a wide circle of friends. ' None knew her but to 
love her,' and she has carried with her to her home on 
high a treasure of affection like that which she herself 
loved so well to bestow. She was a member of the 
First Baptist Church, having been baptized by Dr. 



24 MILLIE COLCORD. 

Shailer in May, 1874. Man)' will recall that interesting 
service, and the sweet face of the child in white as she 
entered and came forth from the baptismal waters. 
That profession of faith she ever honored. May there 
be many among her young friends who will at length 
wear with her the crown of life ! " 



''J^O/^ THY NAMES SAKEr 

/^N lightest wings there came a thought to me 
^•^ From far away. 

And whether it were mine to give or keep, 
I dared not say. 

But when I took it up within my hand, 

And held it so, 
There came one more to bear it company, 

And would not go. 

A little while I held them in my hands 

With doubt and care. 
When at my feet I found a little book. 

All new and fair. 

Within its leaves I laid my two glad thoughts, — 

Lo, from that day, 
Unto my waiting hands new thoughts have flown, 

From far awav. 



26 J/V IVOKK. 

And as I lay them all within the leaves 

So pure and fair, 
And reach my hands for others in their flight, 

I breathe one prayer, — 

That when the little book is borne to Him 

Who thoughts can make, 
This, and this only, shall his eyes first see, — 
"For thy name's sake." 

-*r^ .^. 



H 



MV WORK. 

E crowned my life with blessings full and 
sweet, 

In his great love he pardoned all my sin ; 
Then to his fold he led my wandering feet, 

And bade me know the peace and joy within : 
"Dear Lord,"* I cried, "I'll gladly work for 

thee ; "' 
His loving voice said only, " Follow me." 

He led me to his pastures green and fair, 
Beside still waters oft he bade me stay ; 

But I, with heart all full of anxious care. 
Murmured because he made so smooth the 
way, 

Saying, " I have no work to do for thee," — 

'* Child, this is work," he said, '' to follow me." 



AIV STRENGTH. 27 

Yet still I murmured, " Lord, the way is fair, 
And it is very sweet to walk with thee ; 

But shall thy servant have no cross to bear ? 
No battle to be fought and won for thee ? " 

And in his love, — the half I could not see, — 

My Saviour gave this answer unto me, — 

''Are there no little crosses for each day ? 

No inward battles to be fought with sin ? 
Nothing to do to smooth another's way ? 

To help a soul the crown of life to win ? 
Hast thou remembered my great love for thee, 
And dost thou live each dav, each hour, for 
me?" 

Then seeing all my need and sin and pride, 
I knelt again before my Saviour's feet. 

Praying for strength to follow by his side. 
Praying for help temptation's power to meet ; 

And now, each day, let my petition be, — 

Teach me, dear Lord, to follow after thee. 






MY STRENGTH. 

T SAT in the deepening twilight 
-■• With faith that was weak and dim 
The dear Lord stood beside me. 
But I had no thought of him. 



28 MY STRENGTH. 

My spirit was weary of sinning ; 

But my blind faith could not see 
The love of the pitying Saviour, 

E'en then so near to me. 

And looking upon all the failures, 

The wrong and sin of the day, 
The many times Thad left my Lord 

For the broad and sinful way, — 

" How can I be called his disciple. 

His child ? " I wearily cried ; 
And unto my sorrow and weakness 

My Saviour gently replied : 

"Child, is it thy strength that shall conquer 
This daily temptation and sin ? 

Thy righteousness that shall help thee 
Life's victories to win ? 

" Trust not in thyself ; but when weary. 
And longing from sin to be free, 

Look upward for help through the trial ; 
' My grace is sufficient for thee.' " 

Then I turned away in the twilight. 
With faith growing strong and clear ; 

I had not known through the weary day 
That the Lord had been so near. 



ANOTHER YEAR. 29 

And now when my spirit is weary, 

And my way I cannot see, 
I think of the loving, helpful words 

That the dear Lord said to me, — 

Till, with faith that no longer is troubled, 

His face I can almost see, 
While I know, though my strength is weakness, 

His grace is sufficient for me. 

ANOTHER YEAR. 

Why art thou cabt down, oh, my soul ? and why art 
thou disquieted within me ? Hope thou in God. — Ps. 
xlii : II. 

A NOTHERyear: 
-^^ The last lies dead behind thee. 

The future from thy sight is hidden still ; 
But He who walks beside thee knows the end- 
ing,— 
Be patient, then, my soul, to do his will. 

Another year : 
To tread life's path, not knowing 

Where it shall lead thee, e'en from day to day ; 
But know, my soul, thy Father is beside thee, 

To guide thee heavenward in his own best way. 

Another year : 
To gather sheaves for heaven, 

From out the harvest fields so full and white ; 



30 MV WAV. 

To find some loving work to do for Jesus, 
To lead some soul from darkness into light. 

Another year : 
Art weary of thy toiling ? 

Art longing to behold thy Saviour's face ? 
O faint not yet ! behold, He stands beside thee 

In all the fullness of his lovins: grace. 



Another year : 
He never will forsake thee, 

Though clouds and darkness gather round 
thy way ; 
Be strong, for though temptation's power assail 
thee, 
His grace shall be sufficient day by day. 

Another year : 
O doubt, my soul, no longer, — 

Go forward, trusting in thy Saviour's grace, 
So walking, that each day shall find thee nearer 
That '' Better Land," where thou shalt see 
his face. 

MY WAV. 



T 



HEY told me of a way 

That I must go,- 
ither 'twas long or 
rhev did not know. 



Whether 'twas long or short 



A/y WAY. 31 

I did not listen then. 

Nor understand 
Until my Father came 

And took my hand. 

" I am thy guide," he said ; 

"Leave all with me ;" 
And so I went with him 

All trustingly. 

And now we journey on, 

Day after day ; 
I ha\4 no need of care, 

He knows the way. 

My sandals are his strength ; 

And his great love 
The staff that helps me toward 

The home above. 

He holds my hand in his, — 

How can I fear ? 
It is not hard to trust 

While he is near. 

I do not know how long 

The way will be ; 
I only know it is 

The best for me. 

And when no longer here 

He bids me roam. 
I shall behold with joy 

My Father's home. 



32 ON THE SHORE. 

O.V THE SHQRE. 

'T^HE. day is done ; beyond the distant mount- 
-■■ ains 
The sunset light dies slowly in the sky, — 
Only the pine trees break the deep night silence, 
And whisper softly as the wind goes by. 

No human voice breaks on the solemn stillness ; 

Yet long I linger on the sanded beach, 
Watching the deep, dark ocean rolling onward 

To lands which thought alone, not sight, can 
reach. 

I have no fear of the blue waves before me, 
That strive to touch and clasp me as I stand ; 

Do I not know that he whose care is o'er me 
Holdeth the waters in his mighty hand ? 

But to my spirit comes a calm, deep rapture, 
The while I watch this wide, unresting sea, — 

The sense of something pure and full and 
changeless. 
Of something unfulfilled and yet to be. 

1 think, perhaps, that when my feet turn slowly 
Forth from the mortal ways of sin and strife, — 

When 1 shall leave behind earth's pain and 
pleasure, 
'J'o stand and wait upon the shore of life,: — 



MV BIRDS. 33 

That I shall stand with this same nameless 
rapture, 

And wait his bidding from the land above, — 
Content, until he come, to gaze in silence 

Out o'er the boundless ocean of his love. 






I 



MY BIRDS. 

LEAN from the window at morning, 
And hear in the street 



The chirp of the tiny browai sparrows. 
So cheery and sweet. 

Around me the swallows come circling 

On lightest of wings. 
While high on the bough of the elm-tree 

A glad robin sings. 

My birds ! they flit gaily about me. 

They twitter and call ; 
But the message they bring in the morning 

Is sw^eetest of all. 

For the sparrows chirp gaily, — "Be cheerful, 

Whatever befall;" 
" Be strong," sing the swallow^s above me, 

*' God careth for all." 
3 



34 WAITING. 

" Be trustful." Oh robin, low singing, 

Your message is best : 
" Each day brings its work and its blessing, — 

Trust God for the rest." 

My bright little songsters, I hear you 

With heart glad and free ; 
For I know that the Father in heaven, 

Who sent you to me. 

Not only will strengthen and cheer me 

Each hour of the day, 
But will, in his own loving kindness, 

Be with me alway. 

WAITING. 

A ADHERE the white cliffs throw their slant- 
* ^ ing shadows 

And the waves roll in with dash and roar. 
Still and patient, in the sunset glory, 

Sits an old man on the rocky shore. 

At his feet the children cluster gaily. 
Looking outward, far across the bay, — 

Tell of wondrous ships upon the ocean, 

Ships that they shall proudly own some day. 

^' Tell us," cry the children's eager voices, 
" Tell us, have you any ships at sea ? 

Will they bring you some day, sailing homeward^ 
Gems and riches, always yours to be ? " 



LIFE'S WEAVING. 35 

Then the old man answers very softly^ ^ 

"There is one for which I daily wait ; ^^ 

Though the rest have foundered with theirjp^*- 
tunes, 
This one ship will come, however late. 

" She will bring to me no earthly treasure, 
Nothing that shall make me richer here ; 

But will take me to a fairer country, 

And each night I pray she may be near." 

He is silent, — eager wait the children. 
Looking upward, with a grave surprise, 

Till the old man's eyes, grown dim with watching, 
Turn once more toward the sunset skies. 

People passing homeward from their labor, 

Pause upon the shore and pity him ; 
''Ah ! they do not know," the children whisper, 

"He is waiting till his ship comes in." 

LIFE'S WEAVING, 

T STOOD in gladness, — for life's highest joy 
■*■ Had found within my heart its resting 

place ; 
I do not think I saw or felt save this, 

That I was standing in the King's own grace ; 
So near he was to me. 
It seemed that I could see 
The love and light and glory of his face. 



36 LIFE'S WEAVING. 

When as I waited, lo ! the King bent down, 

And in his hand I looked with great amaze ; 
For there were patterns, more than I could count, 
Lying together in confusing maze, — 

For some flashed sparkling bright. 
And some were fair and white. 
While some lay dark and somber 'neath my 
gaze. 

He bade me take one then, and so I looked. 
And chose one from his hand with greatest 
care; 
I could not see the whole, but that one glimpse 
Showed me it was surpassing rich and rare ; 
And then I heard him say, 
" Take this, my child, away, 
And weave for me one that shall be as fair." 

And so I went away to work for him \ 

Ah ! then the days sped gladly by for me, — 
Before my eyes the pattern flashed and glowed. 
And 'neath its light I labored patiently, — 
" He will be glad," I cried. 
The while I toiled in pride, 
'' To see how like his own my work shall be." 

A little while I labored gladly on, 

And then, one day, I held my work no more ; 
For where the pattern of my choice had been 
Lay nothing there my saddened eyes before ; 
I could not understand 
'Twas at the King's command. 
And so I turned away and murmured sore. 



THE FLITTING OF THE LEAVES. 37 

But while I waited, grieving sadly then, 

Once more to me the King stood very near,— 
Once more I felt his tender, loving gaze, 
And knew the voice that whispered in my ear, 
" My child, 'twas for thy sake ; " 
No answer could I make. 
But all at once the way grew strangely clear. 

He has not given me my work again, 

And yet my heart is growing glad and free, 
Although he only lets me labor now 

On something with a form I cannot see ; 
But why he holds it so 
I do not care to know, 
Since I am sure it is the best for me. 

And though sometimes I wonder, questioning 

Whether my pattern now is large or small, 
Or whether it will show forth dark or bright, 
When for mv finished work the King shall 
call,— ^ 

I am content at last. 
With doubt and fear all past, 
To weave in gladness, since he knoweth all. 

THE FLITTING OF THE LEA VES. 

COMETHING I know; 

*^ Down where the forest-trees whisper 

Softly and low, 
Robed in the autumn's brief glory. 



38 THE FLITTING OF THE LEAVES. 

Told they the wonderful story, 
New every year, 
• Told it in soft thrilling whispers 
Into my ear. 

When in the night 
Blows the north-wind through the forest, 

Strong in his might, 
Wake all the leaves from their slumber'; 
Ah ! who can tell the vast number 

Quivering there, 
Loved by the trees of the forest, 

Kept in their care. 

Then some fair morn, 
After the wind and the waking, 

Just at the dawn. 
Wait the leaves, robed in their glory ; 
Then comes the wonderful story, 

Never grown old, 
Then wait the leaves for their flitting, 

Scarlet and gold. 

Standeth no more 
Green in its splendor, the forest. 

Summer is o'er ; 
Yet the leaves tell not of sadness, 
Full is the story of gladness 

Whispered to me ; 
Regal and fair in the sunlight 

Waiteth each tree. 



ALONE WITH JESUS. 39 

When, lo ! a breeze, 
Bearing a word from the north-land, 

Stirreth the trees ; 
Quickly the leaves lift their faces, 
Quiver and start from their places, 

Flying away, 
Touched by the autumn's glad sunlight, 

Eager and gay. 

Sad, do you say, 
Leaving the trees and the summer. 

Flying away ? 
Then for us endeth the story ; 
God knows the life and the glory 

Some day to be. 
And why the leaves have their flitting 

We, too, shall see. 






''ALONE WITH JESUSr 

Alone with Jesus;" fades the daylight 
-^^ slowly, 

Soft o'er the earth the shades of evening fall, 
As worn and weary with the day's temptation 
My spirit answers to the Saviour's call. 



40 ALONE WITH JESUS. 

"Alone with Jesus ; " from the day's hard conflict 
What have I brought that I his grace may win ? 

Only the burden of my sin and longing, — 
Only the same heart-cr}^, " Forgive my sin." 

*'Alone with Jesus;" he hath seen each wan- 
dering, 
Hath watched each failure, from his throne 
above ; 
And yet, to-night, he bids me come, confiding 
In the great wealth of his unchanging love. 

"Alone with Jesus ; " oh the hush, the rapture ! 

My spirit yieldeth to his gracious will, — 
What though the day's sad failure lies behind 
me ? 

I am content because he loves me still. 

"Alone with Jesus ; " in his presence holy 
Cometh no thought of sin or pain to me ; 

Close, close, his loving arms are thrown around 
me. 
Almost the glory of his face I see. 

"Alone with Jesus ; " here can come no sorrow, 
From sin and conflict here my soul is free ; 

This be my prayer, to-night, " Oh Jesus, Saviour, 
Teach me through life to dwell alone with 
thee." 



ROOM FOR ALL. 4^ 

ROOM FOR ALL. 

AAT'EARY soul, 

^ ' 'Neath your burden, fainting, falling, 
Hear you not the King's voice, calling 

Low and sweet ? 
Come ! the multitudes are thronging, 
In their want and sin and longing. 

To his feet ; 
Come and find within his presence 

Rest complete. 

Longing soul. 
Standing very near his dwelling, 
Surely, you have heard them telling 

Just within, 
Of the freedom from all sadness. 
Of the victory gained in gladness 

Over sin, — 
Then why linger, w^hen he bids you 

Enter in ? 

Doubting soul. 
What ! you also standing weary, 
And the night so cold and dreary 

As you wait ? 
Come ! oh, see the radiance stealing, 
Love and light and warmth revealing. 

Through the gate, — 
Enter, ere the King in sadness 

Calls, "Too late!" 



42 ROOM FOR ALL. 

Dying soul, 
Dark and chill the night falls o'er you, 
Seemeth there no light before you, — 

Yet I bring 
Not to you the message telling 
Of the fair and beauteous dwelling 

Of the King ; 
For he bids me whisper only 

This one thing, — 

Long ago, 
Sin and shame and sadness bearing. 
Crown of thorns in meekness wearing 

On the tree. 
Gave my King his life of glory, 
Not for fame in titled story, 

But for thee ; 
Dying soul, to-night he calleth, 

" Come to me ! " 

Then, all come ! 
Weary, longing, doubting, dying, — 
To you all his voice is crying 

This one thing : 
Great his love, and without measure. 
Yet that love no earthly treasure 

E'er may win ; 
Come and take it, freely, freely, 

From the King. 



ANNIVERSARY HYMN. 43 

ANNIVERSARY HYMN. 

Sung at the 70th Anniversary of the Baptist Church in 
Freeport, Me., Nov. 25, 1877. 

Tune—" St, Thorn as.'' 

T-J ERE in thy house, oh God, 
-*■ ^ We raise our song to thee ; 
We give thee thanks for mercies past, 
For blessings full and free. 

Now hath thy church been formed 

For three-score years and ten ; 
And we, to-day, sing forth thy praise, 

As sung thy people then. 

We bring our witness strong 

To thy great love, long tried. 
To thy rich grace, that waits alway, 

Thy people's feet to guide. 

We give thee thanks for life. 

We praise thy name to-day 
That, through Christ's death, and by his blood, 

Our sins are washed away. 

And while we praise thy name. 

We raise to thee one prayer, — 
Through years to come, in thy rich grace, 

Oh give this church thy care. 

Teach it thy love to know. 

In measure large and free ; 
Oh lead each soul its ranks within 

Homeward at last to thee. 



44 A CHRISTMAS SONG. 

A CHRISTMAS STORY. 

T HEAR, with a heart of gladness, 
■^ The bells ring out their chime, 
And I think of a strange, sweet story 
I read in Christmas time, — 

Of a little child, who wandered 
From haunts of shame and sin 

To the arching door of a chapel, * 
And softly entered in. 

None noticed the small, sad figure, 
Crouched by the chapel door, 

With her wan face telling in sorrow 
The story of the poor. 

Tenderly read the preacher, 

By unseen guidance led, 
" Suffer the little children to come. 

Forbid them not," he said. 

Unto the listening people 

His voice read softly on, — 
Up rose the child by the chapel door, 

Her fear and sadness gone. 

Soon closed was the Christmas service. 

The Christmas carol sung. 
The people turned from the chapel door. 

Save one the throng among. 



A CHRISTMAS SONG. 45 

She turned, with a face of pity, 

And sought the lonely child ; 
" Why do you wait here ? " she gently asked, — 

The little stranger smiled. 

*' He read, ' Forbid the children not,' 

And so I stayed," she said ; 
And unto the voice of childlike faith 

The lady bowed her head. 

" It is the dear Lord's word to me," 

She said, and from the child 
Drew forth her story of homeless want. 

Of life by sin defiled. 

She heard the sad life-history, 

As from his lips above ; 
And I read, that for his name's sake 

She claimed the child in love. 

And the strange, sweet Christmas story 

I tell to-night again. 
With the prayer that it may bring one thought 

Of peace, good-will to men. 



46 A CALL TO PRAYER, 

A CALL TO PRAYER. 

[Written to be read at the Annual Meeting of the 
Young Woman's Missionary Society of the First Bap- 
tist Church, Portland, Me., Feb. 13, 1878.] 

Pray ye therefore the Lord of the harvest, that he will 
send forth laborers into his harvest. — Matt. ix. 38. 

T HAVE listened, oh ye children of the king- 
■^ dom, 

By the blood of Christ made free, 
I have listened oft, to hear our dear Lord's 
teaching 

Of this new, sweet liberty ; 
But to-day I hear his voice, in tender pleading, 

Coming down to you and me. 

Have you also heard the voice of Christ, our 
Saviour, 

As it comes to me to-day ? 
It is telling of the nations clothed in darkness. 

Who know not the living way ; 
For the people crying out for souls' salvation 

It is bidding us to pray. 

There are nations bowing low in adoration 

Unto gods of wood and stone ; 
They have heard not of the cross where one 
died bleeding, 

In his agony alone ; 
They are sitting very lonely in their darkness, 

And the dav-dawn hath not shone. 



A CALL TO PRAYER. 47 

Yet, with faces turning eastward, they are 
watching 
Till the day-dawn shall appear ; 
For the glimmer of a star shines through the 
darkness, 
And the light draws slowly near ; 
Ah ! they know not of the light that, one day 
beaming, 
Shall dispel all doubt and fear. 

Do you know that this same voice of Christ 
our Saviour, 
That calls down to us to-day, 
That is filled with all the love that paid our 
ransom. 
As it bids us rise and pray. 
Sends the starlight that is shining through the 
darkness 
Of those nations far away ? 

For some souls, in willing answer to Christ's 
calling. 
Unto lands far, far from sight. 
Have gone out, the Saviour's presence always 
with them. 
To dispel the gloom of night, — 
And, to-day, the people watch the darkness 
turning 
Very slowly into light. 

So I ask you, oh ye children of the kingdom, 

Who have known Christ's love and care, 
Let us not forget his voice of tender pleading, 



48 GUIDED. 

Let US lift our hearts in prayer, 
That the dawn may quickly come, and that all 
nations 
Christ's own righteousness may wear. 



GUIDED. 



T 



HOU bidst me tread the way 
That leadeth after thee, 
The things which lie beyond 
Thy wisdom hides from me ; 
I know 'tis right, dear Lord, and yet to-day, 
If thou wouldst lift the clouds a little way, — 

If thou wouldst show to me 

One thing which lies before. 
One turn the pathway makes, 
I would not ask for more ; 
So thickly falls the mist, I tread the way. 
Not knowing where it leads from day to day, 

But if thou canst not show 

The pathway unto me, 
Oh by thy guiding hand 
Lead me so near to thee. 
That I shall ask no more the way to know, 
Content to follow. Lord, where thou dost go. 



MY PICTURES. 49 

I wait, for lo, he speaks 

In tenderness to me, — 
"My child, fear not, nor doubt, 
My hand is guiding thee." 
Oh word of love divine ! I turn to him, 
My faith no longer weak, no longer dim. 

1 feel his guiding hand, 

I know his loving voice 
That, tenderly and low, 

Hath bade my heart rejoice. 
I ask not now for light the way to see, 
I am content to know he leadeth me. 

I dread, no more, the ills 

That lie my pathway near. 
The dear Lord guideth me, 
With him I cannot fear ; 
And tho' the mist still falls around my way, 
I know "twill end, at last, in perfect day. 

MY PICTURES. 

T HAVE a picture, a small child-face, 

^ Close by my side I have made its place, 

Because I hold it dear ; 
1 think if you saw my picture fair. 
With its eyes of brown and flossy hair, 
And lips with never a thought of care. 

You too would want it near. 
4 



so A/y PICTL'RES. 

I have a picture, — and when the day 
Sometimes for me grows a little gray, 

I seek the child-face nigh ; 
For no tears come to the soft brown eyes. 
The lips smile on in their glad surprise, 
If the day bring clear or cloudy skies, 

And if I smile or sigh. 

I have a picture, — and in my heart 
Many another now lies apart. 

Framed in before my sight ; 
No heart but mine can these pictures see, 
But I watch them smile on joyously, 
Till watching, my heart grows glad and free, 

Because of their faces bright. 

For my picture unto me hath taught, 
That if I can keep each glad life-thought 

That comes my soul to cheer, 
As pictures fair they shall smile at me. 
Though my lifetime bright or cl6udy be, — 
Just as the child-face cheerily 

Smiles on beside me here. 

And so my picture, the sweet child-face, 
Stands by my side, where I've made its place, 

Because I hold it dear ; 
The other pictures that light my way 
Are the bright, glad thoughts I frame each day, 
Chasing the dark ones quite away. 

Making the sky grow clear. 



CHRISTMAS CAROL. SE 

Do you deem these pictures in my heart, 
That memory's hand hath laid apart. 

Are visions dim, untrue ? 
Then, when your sky grows a little gray. 
Turn to the thought of some happy day. 
And the picture fair shall light your way, 

As mine my pictures do. 

CHRISTMAS CAROL. 

T~^0 you hear the bells chime o'er the snow, 
■■— ' In the hush of the dawning. 
While the east flashes red in the glow 

Of the fair Christmas morning ? 
Oh, hush ! while vou hear their clear rino^ino:, 
" Peace, Peace," is the word they are bringing, 

Good-will unto men. 
Oh, hush ! in your hearts let the echo 

Find answer again. 

Do you know how those clear ringing bells 

Wake the people in gladness ? 
How each note, as it rises and swells, 

Bids our hearts turn from sadness .'* 
Oh, list to their wonderful story ! 
'Tis filled with the light and the glory 

Of Bethlehem's star ; 
Down, down thro' the years that have ended, 

It sounds from afar. 



52 CHRISTMAS CAROL. 

Long ago, 'neath the stars' shining light, 

When the earth lay all sleeping, 
Waited shepherds, a watch in the night 

O'er their flocks safely keeping, 
When lo ! in the heavens before them 
Came angels with great glory o'er them ; 

" Fear not," was their cry, 
" Behold, we have brought you glad tidings, 

Good news from on hio^h ! " 



'Jd' 



Need I tell you that story again ? 

Oh, most wonderful story ! 
In its song of good-will unto men. 

In its light and its glory. 
You know how the angels, with singing, 
The wonderful tidings came bringing 

That Jesus was born ; 
You know how the shepherds hailed gladly 

That first Christmas morn. 

And to-day let the news of that morn 

Thrill the earth with its gladness, 
On this day that our Saviour was born 

Let all hearts turn from sadness. 
Oh, sweetest, oh, brightest, best morning ! 
Ring, bells, for the fair Christmas dawning 

That maketh earth glad. 
Ring, bells, till the world leaves its sorrow. 

And no one is sad. 



TRUST. 53 

TRUST. 

In quietness and in confidence shall be your strength. 
— Isa. XXX : 1 5. 

D E quiet, soul : 

^ Why shouldst thou care and sadness bor- 
row, 
Why sit in nameless fear and sorrow 

The livelong day ? 
God will mark out thy path to-morrow 

In his best way. 

Be quiet, soul : 
There is no need of doubt and crying, 
There is no need for anxious sighing, 

God's love to know ; 
Dost thou remember not his dying. 

Who loved thee so ? 

Be trustful, soul : 
Each day, for thee, thy Father careth, 
Each day, in sweet compassion shareth 

Thine every ill ; 
Even thy sin for thee he beareth, 

And loves thee still. 

Be trustful, soul : 
When some dark cloud shuts out before thee 
Light that hath hitherto shone o'er thee, 

Doubt not, nor fear ; 
But know God does it to assure thee 

That he is near. 



54 A LITTLE WHILE. 

Be trustful, soul : 
Remember God forgets thee never ; 
He who in grace stands waiting ever 

Thy way to guide, 
Shall surely hold thee, soul, forever 

Close to his side. 






''A LITTLE WHILE, AND YE SHALL 
SEE MEr 

A LITTLE while," oh, words of tender 
-*^^ meaning. 

That fill our souls with longings and with joy, 
That bid our thoughts rise upward, very gladly, 

To that bright land where bliss has no alloy. 

"A little while," and then, in that fair country. 
All of our tears God's hand shall wipe away ; 

All pain and sin, all earthly woe shall vanish, 
When we behold, with joy, the perfect day. 

And is this all ? that we no more shall sorrow. 
That we shall find no sin within the place ? 

Ah, no ! the promise thrills with new, sweet 
meaning, — 
"A little while,"' and we shall see his face. 



A LESSON. 55 

*'A little while," and we shall see his glory, 
Who, for our ransom, shed his precious blood 

That all our sins, though scarlet, might be 
whitened. 
E'en washed away beneath the crimson flood. 

"A little while,*" and Christ shall lead us gently 
Up to the many mansions of the blest. 

And all the hungry shall be fed with manna, 
And all the w-eary shall he give sweet rest. 

For in that land he giveth joy for sorrow. 
He giveth peace to those by earth long tried ; 

And each soul findeth there its chief desire, — 
For in Christ's likeness all are satisfied. 

**A little while,'" oh true, sweet words of com- 
fort ! 
Fill thou our souls with Christ's own living 
grace, 
That we may wait with gladness, always know- 
ing, 
''A little while,"' and we shall see his face. 

A LESSON. 



1 



BY the roadside walked with weary feel. 
With breath of pine and fir the air was 
sweet. 



Somebody passed me by, in carriage fine, 

I would not walk, I sighed, if that were mine. 



56 THE SONG OF THE SHELL. 

Homeward I turned my steps, as eve drew nigh, 
Somebody's carriage, too, rolled swiftly by. 

They had a load of leaves, all red and gold, 
They knew but rest and jo}', as on they rolled. 

1 had but two wee cups of moss, red-turned, 
I had a lesson, too, that I had learned, — 

That it is good to walk with weary feet, 
To find but one small thing that makes earth 
sweet : 

And finding it, to read its one pure thought, 
That tells of him by whom we all are taught. 

So, though the world deems wealth of joys the 

best, 
I, by the roadside, found that they are blest, 

Who find the joy of life to all things lent. 
And, knowing this one thing, go on content. 






THE SONG OF THE SHELL. 

X-J AVE you heard it, the wonderful song 
-■■-*■ Of the shell which I hold in my hand ? 
Has it come to your ear, sweet and strong. 
In the thought you could ne'er understand.? 



THE SONG OF THE SHELL. 57 

Oh that sweet-sounding song ! well, I know ; 

For it tells in its music to me 
Of the voice of the waves, soft and low. 

And the roll of the murmuring sea. 

Not of wreck and disaster and woe. 

Not of treasure far down in the sea. 
Is the song I would fain have you know ; 

For it telleth but this unto me, — 
Of the soft rush of waves o'er a beach 

Laid all shining and white in the sun. 
Of a glimmer of sails far from reach. 

And a red west when daylight is done. 

I have thought, as I've listened to hear 

What its music might say unto me, 
That the song, sounding on in my ear 

Like the sound of a murmuring sea. 
Is the echo, clear-ringing and sweet, 

Of a life that is past in the shell. 
Which, when cast on the shore at our feet, 

Of that life in its music would tell. 

And the thought has breathed, softly and low, 

Its one lesson of truth unto me, — 
That, as shells, we are tossed to and fro 

On the tide of time's murmuring sea. 
Oh, the wonder has thrilled me to-day. 

If, when borne to eternity's land. 
When the tide of time rolleth away. 

And we rest in our God's mighty hand, — 



5^ FAITH. 

If the song of our lives will sound on, 

Sweet and strong, in his listening ear, — 
Telling not of bright hopes that are gone, 

Telling not of life's failure and fear. 
But of music so sweet in its rest. 

From all sorrow and sighing so free, 
That his wisdom shall deem it the best 

Of the wealth of time's far-reaching sea. 

Then, oh hush ! till your spirit shall hear 

What the shell's song hath told unto me ; 
Till the voice of the waves, low and clear, 

And the sound of that murmuring sea. 
Bear your thought far away to the land 

Where they need not the light of the sun. 
Where the white sails lie safe off the strand. 

And the tide and the tempest are done. 






FAITH. 

"pORTH, on his work of love, the Saviour 
-■- walked. 
Around his path the people pressed and 
thronged. 
Eager, yet doubting, came they to his side, 
That he might grant the gifts for which they 
longed. 



FAITH. 59 

When, lo, a woman, weary, weak, and ill, 
Pressed by the people, caring not for them, — • 

No cry nor pleading made her presence known, 
But, bending low, she touched his garment's 
hem. 

"Who touched me ?" and the Saviour turned 
his head 

Only to hear the wondering people say, 
" Lo, to thy side the multitude hath thronged. 

And savest thou, ' Who touched me in the 



wav 



He did not answer them ; his gracious eye 
Saw but the woman, who, with joy complete, 

Came trembling, as she felt her health restored, 
And told her story, kneeling at his feet. 

'^ Thy faith hath made thee whole." Oh, bless- 
ed words ! 
Forth in her strength the w^oman went that 
hour ; 
Little she knew the joy it gave her Lord 

To find that one on earth had owned his 
power. 

I know the story has been read and told 
Until it is not strange to you or me. 

And yet the wonder comes to me, to-day, 
If in our hearts the woman's faith can be. 



6o HEART TREASURES. 

I know that long ago they saw his face, 

I know that by his words he spake to them, 

1 also know that he is standing now 

Where our poor faith might touch his gar- 
ment's hem ; 

And yet we strive and plead with him for grace, 
As if he stood from us removed, apart ; 

He was no nearer to the woman then 
Than he is now to every trusting heart. 

Then let us come to him with her pure faith, 
And, day by day, more fully test his grace ; 

So shall he lead us, by his love divine, , 
Unto the light and glory of his face. 

HEART TREASURES. 

nPWO clinging arms are round your neck 
-*■ to-night. 

Two little feet are resting now from play. 
And childish kisses, dropping soft and low. 

Take all your care and weariness away. 

'Tis but a little form you hold so dear. 
Only a little wayward, laughing boy. 

And yet I think if he were gone to-night 

Almost for you the world would lose its joy. 



THE FERN. 6i 

It may be that you hold hmi closer now 

Because of one sweet memory that you bear, 

Because of little hands you may not clasp, 
Of little feet for which you may not care. 

You loved it so, — the little fair, sweet life 
That for a while the Shepherd bade you hold, 

What wonder that you sorely grieve to-night 
Because the lamb is laid within the fold. 

He loved it too ; just as your sheltering arms 
Enfold the little child upon your knee. 

So the Good Shepherd bears the little one above, 
Keeping it from all pain and sorrow free. 

Oh, thank him, then, to-night ! look up, believe ! 

See how he keeps your lamb from rude 
alarms ; 
Close, close, you hold one treasure on the earth, 

God holds the other in his loving arms. 

THE FERN. 

A LITTLE green fern in the forest, 
^^^ Life all new and the grass fresh spring- 
ing, 
Robin and blue-bird's clear notes ringing 
Blithely and free ; 
" Spring's best for me," 
Said the little fern in the forest. 



62 A SONG FOR THE REAPERS. 

A slender green fern in the forest, 
Lilies in cool, deep waters lying, 
Soft winds hushing the pines' low sighing 
Off into rest, — 
" Summer is best,'' 
Said the slender fern in the forest. 

A drooping white fern in the forest, 

"Now she will die," the trees cried sadly; 
" No," said the white fern very gladly, 
" Now I shall rest ; 
God knows the best 
For his little fern in the forest." 

A drooping white fern from the forest 

They brought me, just as leaves were falling, 
They say 'tis dead ; I hear it calling- 
Low in its rest, 
"God knoweth best,'' 
My little white fern from the forest. 

A SONG FOR THE REAPERS, 

nr^HEY have gone to the harvest, the fields 
^ are all white, 
And the laborers only are few ; 
Then, oh ! why dost thou bid me, dear Master, 
to stand 
Where my hands find no labor to do .'' 



A sojVG for the reapers. 63 

'Tis a grand, holy work thou hast given to them, 
And they toil in the light of thy face ; 

But thou givest me also my task for the day, 
Though 'tis only a song of thy grace. 

Will thev hear it ? Thou knowest 1 sing at thy 
will, 
And perhaps thou art standing so near 
That the reapers will know^ thou hast given the 
song, 
And will pause in their labor to hear. 

Oh ! then listen, ye weary and burdened in 
heart, 

'Tis to you that he bids me to sing ; 
Come, lift your sad faces, look up from your toil, 

While ye hear of the love of my King. 

Do ye know of his patience, his wonderful grace, 
And the love that he beareth for all ? 

Though your sins be as scarlet, they all may be 
white 
If, in faith, for forgiveness ye call. 

Do ye know how he standeth in tenderness near ? 

How he holdeth you all in his care ? 
For he knows every sorrow deep hid in your 
hearts. 

And he longeth your burdens to bear. 

Oh ! then lift your sad faces, toil patiently on, 
And each day its own blessing shall bring ; 



64 THE ROCK. 

All toiling is easy, all labor is sweet, 
If ye do it for love of the King. 

Do ye say that 'tis easy to stand at his side, 
And to sing of his wonderful grace ? 

Do ye deem that your lives would grow blessed 
indeed 
If ye stood in the light of his face ? 

Well I know that his love and his grace are the 
same. 
Though his voice bid us labor or rest \ 
For he knoweth each need of the hearts he hath 
made. 
And in doing his will we are blest. 

I have finished, dear Master, the reapers have 
heard. 
Though I sang but in weakness for thee ; 
Oh ! I pray, wilt thou teach them thy lessons of 
grace. 
As thou teachest them daily to me ? 

THE ROCK. 

/^NCE stood a rock within a quiet lake, 
^^ Idly the waters lay, 

vSo still the summer day, 
That nought, it seemed, that calm could ever 
break. 



AT EVENING. 65 

Peaceful the lake, its depths serene and pure, 

When, to its waters blue. 

Softly a white dove flew 
To quench her thirst and rest upon the shore. 

When lo ! the sky grew dark, swift o'er the lake 
Came the wind's angry blast, 
High dashed the waves and fast 

Against the rock whose strength they could not 
break. 

Up flew the dove, but ended soon her flight ; 
Safe in the sheltering rock. 
Far from the storm's rude shock, 

Folding her wings, she sat and knew not fright. 

Christ is the rock, and thou, my soul, the dove ; 

Unto his shelter fly. 

In his great strength rely. 
Thou shalt be safe in his unchanging love. 

A 2 EVENING. 

A^f/HEN the birds have hushed their music, 
^ ^ And the day is almost o'er. 
Sits a woman, singing softly, 

Just within her cottage door ; 
Though her voice is low and trembling, 

Ver}^ sweet to me the song, — 
"And I hope, by his good pleasure. 
Safely to arrive at home." 
5 



66 AT EVENING. 

Old the words, and she who sings them, 

Sitting still and peaceful there. 
Long hath trod earth's changing pathway, 

Long hath known its pain and care ; 
Yet the sweet voice shows no sadness, 

Singing softly all alone, — 
"And I hope, by his good pleasure. 

Safely to arrive at home." 

Only those few words she singeth, 

And her voice is weak and low. 
But I think no sweeter music 

Can my spirit ever know : 
For the peaceful brow bespeaketh 

Victory over worldly sin, 
And the dim eyes, looking upward, 

Tell of God's pure love within. 

Long hath been her life of labor, 

Hard the burden she hath borne. 
She indeed, through earth's temptation, 

Christ's own righteousness hath worn ; 
Now at evening sings she softly 

Those sweet words she long hath known,- 
"And I hope, by his good pleasure, 

Safely to arrive at home." 

So I love to watch her sitting. 
With her brow so free from care. 

And the sunlight shining golden 
In her rings of snow-white hair ; 



GOD'S WILL. 67 

Love to hear her sweet voice quiver 

Softly in the dear old song. 
As she hopes, " by his good pleasure, 

Safely to arrive at home." 

Soon, I know, that she is going 

Where they know not sin or care, 
And the while I sit and watch her 

To my spirit comes the prayer. 
" Father, when for me life closeth. 

Let me make her song my own ; 
Help me, too, ' by thy good pleasure. 

Safely to arrive at home.' " 

GOD'S WILL. 

AyyOULD 3'ou do God's will on earth? 

• ' Would you know what souls are they 
Who have learned, all joyfully, 

Its great wisdom to obey? 
Then within his Holy Word 

Search in humble, earnest prayer, 
For in teaching, clear and true. 

Lies God's answer written there. 

They whose hands, in loving thought, 

Do all work as unto him, — 
They who trust but in his grace. 

Praying lest their faith grow dim, — 



68 UNDER THE SHADOW. 

They who follow gladly on 
In the footsteps of their Lord, 

Asking, praying, only this, 

That their lives with his accord, — 

They who, knowing Christ's great love, 

Holding fast his mighty hand. 
Walk, triumphant, cleansed, redeemed, 

Onward to the better land, — 
These are they in whom their Lord 

Doth his blessed word fulfill. 
Walking with their garments white, — 

These are they who do his will. 

Blessed will, and blessed souls 

Who its precepts here obey. 
Striving, whatsoe'er their work, 

From its teachings ne'er to stray. 
Father, teach us so to live. 

In our hearts thy word fulfill ; 
This one prayer we raise to thee. 

Teach us how to do thy will. 

''under the shadow of the 
almighty:' 

T T NDER the shadow of his wings ; 
^^ Oh sweetest rest ! 
Thou canst not find, my soul, an hiding-place 



A HYMN OF PRAISE. 69 

So safe as in thy Father's arms of grace ; 
He calls them blest 
Who find the joy his promise brings. 

There is no other resting place, 
My soul, so dear ; 
The shadow of his wings is great and wide, 
And yet so near it draws thee to his side, 
So very near, 
'Tis like a glimpse of his loved face. 

Under the shadow of his wings ; 
Oh who may stay ? 
They who find rest within his secret place, 
They who find joy but in his own rich grace, 
And only they. 
May know the joy the shadow brings. 

For joy, not born of earthly things, 
Fills all the place ; 
Come near, my soul, come closer, closer still, 
See ! thou art shielded now from every ill, — 
Rest in God's grace, 
Under the shadow of his wings. 

A HYMN OF PRAISE. 

A LITTLE hymn of gladness 
^^- I'd sing, dear Lord, for thee, 
Without one note of sorrow, 
From fear and trouble free. 



70 A HYMN OF PRAISE. 

Thou knowest, Lord, the service 

Is small that I can make, 
But thou wilt own the smallest, 
If clone for thy name's sake. 

For thy right hand I thank thee, 

So helpful and so strong, 
That, toward the shining city, 

Safe leads my soul along ; 
. That, though I oft have wandered, 

And found my love grown cold, 
Hath only clasped me closer, 

And never lost its hold. 

I thank thee for the gladness 

That fills my heart to-day, 
That shows thy loving kindness. 

And lights up all my way ; 
What wonder that my spirit 

Can only sit and sing ? 
The children of the kingdom 

May surely praise their King. 

But more than all I thank thee, 

Oh dear, most loving Lord, 
For sure and blest redemption. 

The promise of thy word ; 
I thank thee for the flowing 

Of thine all-precious blood, 
And that I stand forgiven 

Beneath the cleansing flood. 



LAID ASIDE. 71 

I thank thee, oh I thank thee, 

For thy great love to me ; 
What can I give in payment ? 

What can I bring to thee ? 
Only my heart's great gladness, 

That sings in praise to-day, 
Because thy blood hath saved me, 

And washed my sins away. 



LAID ASIDE. 

AATE say them very oft, the two small words, 
^ ^ Thinking the while of some who, lying 
still. 
May only watch the reapers at their work. 
May only wait to know their Father's will. 

But by what right do we in judgment stand. 
And, looking o'er the harvest-field so wide. 

Say of those lives whose work we cannot know. 
These hath the Father's wisdom laid aside ? 

They may not toil, their waiting hands lie still, 
And cannot glean the sheaves so white and 
fair ; 
But shall we say that they are laid aside, 
When God's own hand hath surely placed 
them there ? 



72 ■ LAID ASIDE, 

Because their feet no longer come and go 
Among the sheaves that ripen 'neath the sun, 

Because their hands can neither sow nor glean, — 
Is this the sign that work for them is done? 

Ah, no ! God does not count them laid aside 
Because his voice has bade them to be still. 

For though they only wait with folded hands^ 
It is enough that so they do his will. 

How shall we judge what task on earth is theirs ? 

God does not measure by our human sight ; 
The work we count as nothing, in his hand 

May, some day, shine in radiance of light. 

A life of waiting, lived as for the Lord, 
Shall never, in his sight, be counted lost ; 

Dost find it hard to wait ? remember this, 
Our wills opposing God's will makes the cross. 

God's plans are great and deep, his ways are 
wide ; 

We strive in vain his will to understand, 
Till, looking upward through the mist of doubt, 

We hear his loving voice and clasp his hand. 

He holds us then ; no harm our souls need fear 
If in life's field of toil he makes our place, 

Or if he bid us lay aside our work 

And wait, unquestioning, a little space. 



LOOK UPWARD. 73 

The reason here we may not understand 

Why he should bid some labor, others rest ; 

But since his love and wisdom cannot fail, 
We know his ways are right, his plans are best 

And though I dare not judge another's work, 
This do I know, — in all God's kingdom wide, 

Where'er their place, however small their task, 
None of his children can be laid aside. 



•^*f-^- 



LOOK UPWARD. 

CHILD of the living God, 
Look up, believing 1 
Hast thou in darkness trod, 

Wearily grieving ? 
Unto the shining light. 
Burning for thee and bright, 
Look up, believing. 

Child of the God of strength. 
Hark to his calling ! 

He will, thy journey's length. 
Keep thee from falling ; 

Rest in his arms, nor fear. 

Seeking his face so dear, 
Hark to his callinof. 



74 GOD'S CHOICE THE BEST. 

Child of the God of grace, 
Trusting, yet fearing, 

Look to thy Father's face ; 
Then his voice hearing. 

Walk in his own great might 

Up toward the city bright, 
Trusting, not fearing. 

Child of the God of love, 
Toward Zion going, 

Great are the joys above, 
God's hand bestowing ; 

Then lift your eyes to-day. 

Joyfully tread the way. 
Toward Zion going. 

Child of the God of all. 
Look up, believing ! 

With him thou shalt not fall. 
His grace receiving ; 

From earthly care and strife. 

Unto eternal life. 
Look up, believing. 

GOD'S CHOICE THE BES2. 

T HAVE a gift, a precious gift, 
-*■ I scarce can understand 
Why unto one like me it came 
From out my Father's hand. 



GOD'S CHOICE THE BEST. 75 

'Tis this —that through God's loving grace 

My soul was taught to see, 
The place wherein he bids me stay 

Is surely best for me. 

I thought by some work of my own 

His name to glorify ; 
He led me by another way, 

I have not questioned why. 

His love so clearly shows to me 

That all he does is best, 
I ask him but for daily wants. 

And trust him for the rest. 

So many blessings from his hand 

Come daily unto me. 
Sometimes my only prayer is this,— 

'' May I more thankful be." 

And when my soul is overcast. 
When grows the light more dim. 

The Lord hath taught my soul to lean 
In quietness on him. 

So I would never change the place 

Wherein he bids me stay. 
But thank him for the pastures green 

That lie along my way. 

Oh may I find more joy each day 

In his communion sweet, 
Leaving my troubles, every one, 

At mv Redeemer's feet. 



76 LIVING FOR JESUS. 

So shall I live in gladness here, 

And on my Lord rely, 
Till he shall take me to my home, 

God's paradise on high. 



trtii*7. 



LIVING FOR JESUS. 

T IVING for thee, oh my blessed Redeemer ! 
"■— ' Let this one thought be the rule of my life ; 
Weary of sin, I would seek but thy gloiy, 
Flee to thine arms from temptation and strife. 

Living for thee, when the sunlight falls o'er me, 
Filling my soul with thy grace from above ; 

Then may my heart tell to others its gladness, 
Bringing some soul to rejoice in thy love. 

Living for thee, when dark shadows surround me, 
Still may thy service be first unto me ; 

Still may I cling to thy hand that hath held me, 
Seekhig thy work, whatsoever it be. 

Living for thee, when temptations assail me, 
Hold me, I pray thee, close, close by thy hand ; 

Hast thou not said, " I will never forsake thee ? " 
Then, through thy grace, shall I conqueror 
stand. 



A.V INVITATION. 77 

Living for thee, oh my loving Redeemer, 
Thou who hast known all my weakness and 
sin ; 

Hear thou this prayer from thy lowest disciple, 
Help me this day a new life to begin. 

Teach thou my soul to rejoice in thy service, 
Show thy rich grace in its fullness to me ; 

Jesus, my Saviour, thou Lord of my ransom, 
Teach'me, I pray thee, to live but for thee. 

- " Cf ^ J * - 

AN INVITATION. 

T HAVE found me a wide, shelt'ring rock, 
•*■ In whose cleft I may always abide. 
And so safe is my soul in this rest 

That it asks for no shelter beside ; 
I can see from the rock where I lie 

That its shade reaches far o'er the land. 
Yet so closely it folds me I know 

'Tis the shadow of God's mighty hand. 

I have found me a fountain of life, 

To whose waters I freely may go ; 
There is health for my soul in their source, 

There is comfort and strength in their flow. 
Long I stayed from this fountain apart. 

Though they told me its waters were free. 
But my soul quenched its thirst when I found 

That the fountain was flowing for me. 



78 AN INVITATION. 

I have found me a pardon for sin, 

I am holding it close in my soul ; 
Oh the joy that it brings me is great, 

For I know that it maketh me whole. 
'Tis a pardon so wondrously free 

That the half I can ne'er understand. 
But I know that 'twas sealed by my Lord, 

And it came as the gift of his hand. 

Would you come to this sheltering rock ? 

Would you rest in the cleft that I know ? 
Would you drink of the life-giving stream, 

Whose pure waters unceasingly flow ? 
Then why linger in doubting and fear.^ 

For the rock standeth close by your side, 
It is Jesus who pleads with you now 

In the shade of his love to abide. 

It is Jesus, the fountain of life, 

And he holdeth the water to thee ; 
Oh why stay when you hear his loved voice 

Calling tenderly, " Come unto me ? " 
Have you sins that are holding you back ? 

But his grace is sufficient for all ; 
He is holding a pardon for you, 

And it covers your sins, great and small. 

Oh then hasten your steps to the Lord, 
Think no more of your burden of guilt ; 

Take the pardon, he offers it still, 

And 'tis sealed by the blood he hath spilt. 



HEAVENWARD. 79 

He will give you sweet rest in his love, 
He will lead you where pure waters flow, 

And the sins that have crimsoned your soul, 
Through his grace, shall be whiter than snow. 

HE A VENWARD. 

T HAVE heard them say. Lord Jesus, 
-^ That the time is drawing nigh 
When I shall go in gladness 
To my Father's house on high. 

They have called it death, my Saviour, 
And it may be that they think 

Of a river, deep, far-flowing, 
And my feet upon the brink. 

But I know the death they speak of 

Is a life with thee above. 
And can I doubt or tremble 

When I see but thy great love ? 

And thou tellest me. Lord Jesus, 

As within thine arms I lie. 
That the way is very easy 

To the Father's house on high. 

And I rest with thee, my Saviour, • 
As I lie here, weak and still, 

F6r thy grace is all-suflicient. 
And I yield to thy sweet will. 



8o THE HEAVENLY COUNTRY. 

I believe thy blood hath saved me, 
I believe thy word is sure ; 

Life reaches on before me, 
Bright and ending nevermore. 

So I can but sing in gladness 
This song on earth for thee ; 

Oh, through thy grace. Lord Jesus, 
May it teach one soul to see, — 

That thy life on earth was given 

Death's sting to take away 
From souls that look, believing. 
To thee, the living way. 
October, 1877. 



THE HEAVENLY COUNTRY. 

JERUSALEM, sweet land of rest, 
When we thy joys behold, 
How shall we cry, in rapt amaze, 
" The half has not been told ! " 

Fain would my thought to-day rise up. 

And all thy glory know ; 
Art thou so far, oh city blest, 

From us on earth below 1 



THE HEAVENLY COUNTRY. 8l 

I read that through thy pearly gates, 

Unto thy mansions fair, 
Cometh no sorrow, grief, nor pain, 

Nor thought of worldly care. 

I read that flows a river there. 

Close by the throne of God ; 
Nothing but perfect joy they know 

Who on its banks have trod. 

There is a balm within thy gates 

For every earthly woe, 
There i» a joy for every pain 

That we have felt below. 

And there is one who dwells in thee, 

Jerusalem on high, 
Who for our sins, on earth below. 

Did not refuse to die. 

He is thy lighi, oh land of love. 

He is thy glory all ; 
Fain would we see this King of kings, 

Fain at his feet would fall. 

Glad round his throne the new song swells, 

New unto every soul ; 
Only the ransomed learn that song. 

They by Christ's blood made whole. 

Filled with the glory of his face, 
And with his gracious love, 
6 



82 THE HEAVENLY COUNTRY. 

Are all thy streets and mansions fair, 
Jerusalem above. 

Clothed with the righteousness of Christ 

Are all, thy gates within. 
For they who dwell in thee have found 

Pardon for every sin. 

There is no pain, sweet land of light 
For those who dwell in thee ; 

No one shall hunger, no one thirst, 
And no one tired be. 

Jerusalem, dear land of rest. 

No mortal tongue can tell 
What bliss, what happiness, is theirs 

Who in thy mansions dwell. 

Up to thy gates of shining pearl 

When we in gladness go. 
Then shall our spirits find fulfilled 

More than we've dreamed below. 

For here we can but dream of thee, 

City of God, our King ; 
E'en at the mention of thy name 

Our souls in gladness sing. 

Jerusalem, some day for me 
Thy gates shall open swing, 

Then shall I know thy wondrous joy, 
Then shall I see my Kino^. 



H 



THE RIVER, 83 

THE RIVER. 

OLDING the hand of my Lord 
As I walked by his side. 



Hearing his own loving voice 
As the voice of my guide. 

Happy my soul should have been 
In the light of his face, 

Yet came a little dark cloud 
And o'ershadowed his grace. 

Why did I linger and fear 

By the side of my God ? 
Many had whispered to me 

That the road which we trod 
Downward would lead us, ere long, 

Into darkness and shade ; 
Then was my soul 'neath the cloud, 

And my spirit dismayed. 

"There was a river," they said, 

*' Flowing deeply and wide." 
Surely my courage would fail 

At the swift-rolling tide ; 
Then was my soul overcast 

With the cloud of despair, — 
Oh for the light of my God, 

And the joy of his care ! 

" Child ! " oh that pitying voice 

Speaking softly to me, 
" Hast thou forgotten the price 

I have paid but for thee ? 



84 THE RIVER. 

Canst thou not trust, from the way 
1 have led thee before ? 

Come ! '' and my hand in his own 
We went onward once more. 

Then did the hand of my Lord 

Loose its hold for a space, 
Stood I in wondering thought 

All alone in the place ; 
What ! came the sun to mine eyes 

In such glory of light ? 
Oh most enchanting of scenes 

Was it vision, or sight 



Stood there a country so fair 

- That mine eyes filled with tears, 

Never my soul had so longed 

For this land with no fears \ 
Glimpse of shining ones came 

With their faces of peace, 
Showing from sorrow and pain 

Heaven's perfect release. 

Then hid the beautiful gates 

That fair vision from sight, 
Came now my guide unto me 

With his raiment all white ; 
Yet was my soul filled with joy, 

For he said unto me, 
" Unto that country of peace 

1 am walking with thee. 



THE RIVER. S5 

*' There is no river so dark 

For the children of God, 
Up to yon Paradise fair 

Leads the road they have trod ; 
There is no shadow of death 

For those trusting in me ; 
Have I not gained for them all 

Over deaA victory ? " 

Then we w^ent onward again ; 

Oh the depth of his grace ! 
How could my soul but rejoice 

'Neath the light of his face ? 
Gone were my doubtings and fears, 

He had said unto me, 
"Up to that country of peace 

I am walking with thee." 

Now I am glad in the trust 

That I have in my guide, 
Glad in the help of his grace 

As I walk by his side ; 
Nothing my spirit shall need 

As I cling to his hand, 
While he is leading me home 

To the heavenlv land. 



BIRD-LIFE. 

I^WO happy brown birds in a tree, 

-^ No sorrow nor care ; 
They are building a wonderful nest close by, 
Nothing above it but leaves and sky, 
And glad they sing in the elm tree high 
That the world is fair. 

Two loving brown birds in a tree, 

With their joy complete ; 
Four tiny blue eggs in the mossy nest, 
Under the mother-bird's soft brown breast, 
And she sings to the one loved best 

That the world is sweet. 

Two busy brown birds in a tree. 

And a cry for food 
From four yellow mouths that chatter and call, 
Day after day in the elm tree tall, — 
And still the brown birds sing through it all 

That the world is good. 



DANDELIONS. . ^7 

Two lonely brown birds in a tree, 

And the rest soon told ; 
For the brown birds see, as they sit alone, 
An empty nest whence their young have flown,— 
And soon they fly to lands unknown. 

For the world is cold. 



"4. »"' J* 

DAXDELIONS. 

SWEET is the message 
These wee flowers bring, 
Telling of sunshine, 

Of bird-songs and spring. 

Over the green earth 

Their petals unfold. 
Till hills, fields, and meadows 

Are dotted with gold. 

"Yellow weeds," people say, 
Treading them down ; 

But each one seems to me 
Like a golden crown. 

By and by comes a change ; 

For some fair day 
Each flower spreads its wdngs, 

Flying away. 



88 A DREAM. 

No more a golden crown 
Doth each one wear. 

Fairy-like, misty robes, 
Light as the air. 

Not long linger they here 
Robed in th^ir white, 

Spreading their wings they fly 
Far from our sight. 

Of the way which they journey 
We never have heard, 

Of the land they are seeking 
They tell not a w^ord. 

Their stay is as short 

As the yellow-bird's song, — 

One moment we see them. 
And then they are gone. 

We may wander in vain 

O'er the meadow-lands green, 

Of the misty, white spirits 
The last we have seen. 



A DREAM. 



D 



OWN among the nodding clover, 

Fragrant, sweet-breathed, bending over 



Where the willows droop their branches, 
And the birds flit softly by, — 



A DREAM. 89 

Where the lilies lift their faces 
In the deep and shady places, 
Fell I fast asleep and dreaming 
Underneath the summer sky. 

Strange the dream that came and thrilled me, 
For it seemed a new life filled me 
With a pure and holy rapture 

That I ne'er had felt before : 
All my sin and pain and yearning 
Into joy and gladness turning, 
Till I lay in sweet contentment, 

And my soul asked nothing more. 

"Tell me," then I cried, still dreaming, 
*' Whence this life and what its meaning ? 
Dreamy lilies, nodding clover, 

Do ye hold the wondrous thing ? 
If 'tis thine, sweet bird, beside me, 
To its source I pray thee guide me, 
In this joy beyond all others 
Let my heart forever sing." 

Low the lily-heads bent over, 

Still and fragrant breathed the clover, 

Sang the bird its joyous carol, 

Caring not for word of mine, — 

When a faint light shone before me, 

Stealing, pure and radiant, o'er me. 

And I saw one stand beside me 

Whom I could but call divine. 



90 A DREAM. 

'Twas a dream, I know, yet dreaming, 
Quick ni}^ spirit read its meaning 
In the pure eyes, deep and tender, 
Looking downward into mine ; 
And I cried, in very gladness, 
Now farewell to pain and sadness ; 
I have found the life I dreamed of. 
For I know that life is thine. 

Gone the day, and gone my dreaming, 
Yet the wondrous, mystic meaning 
Lingers o'er me, dwells within me, 

Making life grow pure and sweet ; 
Yet I see one stand beside me. 
Feel his loving presence guide me, 
Till the dream is lost in living 
And I find my joy complete. 

Ye, who longing for life's glory 
Find it but in dream or story, — 
Lo ! to-day, one standeth near you 

Who can change the dream to life ; 
Take that life, in spirit lowly. 
Ye shall find it pure and holy. 
Reaching, in its grand completeness, 
Far beyond earth's pain and strife. 



NINE MONTHS OLD. 91 

''FORGET-ME-NOTr 

T READ, one clay, that flowers were the 
-*• thoughts 

And fancies of the angels up above, 
And as the pretty fable met my eyes 

I wondered how was made the flower I love. 

Perhaps an angel caught, with lightest touch, 
A bit of blue from some sweet baby's eyes, 

And touching it with just one tint of gold. 
Robbed from a sunbeam playing in the skies, 

Held it a little while within his hands. 

Then dropped it down to earth, in careless 
thought ; 
And some one, passing, caught it up with joy, 
And called the wee, blue thing " Forget-me- 
not." 



-»£K3^ 



NINE MONTHS OLD. 

CiNG me a little glad song 
^ That is every whit new, 
Make it of all the bright things 
That the baby can do ; 



92 NINE MONTHS OLD. 

Wonderful things his wee mind 

Has begun to unfold, 
Have you forgotten, to-day 

He is just nine months old ? 

Nothing is new, do you say. 

That this baby has done ? 
Not such another has lived 

'Neath the light of the sun. 
See how he looks at you now, 

In his earnest surprise ; 
All that you seek you may find 

In those sober blue eyes. 

Sing me a little glad song* 

That has never been sung ; 
Tell of the gifts he has had 

Since his short life begun, — 
Gifts that the nine months have left 

On their swift, flying way ; 
Think of them all while you wait, 

And then count if you may. 

One, is the dimple, half hid 

In his fat, rosy chin, 
Two, is the squeal that comes out 

When his mouth puckers in, 
Three, is his fluffy, light hair 

That at rest never lies. 
Four, is ^le glad, ringing laugh 

That shines out in his eyes. 



NINE MONTHS OLD. 95 

Five, you may take for his thoughts, 

For he has not a few. 
Six, for the two tiny teeth 

That are just peeping through, 
Seven, his tears, — they would fill 

But a very small cup, — 
Eight, for the queer, cunning face 

When his wee nose turns up. 

Nine, for the sweetness that goes 

From his head to his feet, — 
There's not a baby, of course, 

In the world half so sweet. 
Now, can you tell me again, 

While you shake your wise head, 
Nothing the baby has done 

That has never been said ? 

Then sing a little new song 

For the baby and me ; 
When you have finished it all. 

If 'tis glad as can be. 
Why, I will put it away 

When he is just nine months old, 
And, some day, I'll read him the song 

That has never been told. 



94 A FESTIVAL SO.VG. 

A FESTIVAL SONG. 

y\l^AT> we greet you here to-night 
^-^ In the happy time of spring, 
While our hearts with joy are light 

We our song of welcome sing ; 
In the May we meet you here, 
Happiest time of all the year, 
Birds are singing, skies are clear, 

And to-night glad hearts we bring. 

All the earth is green and fair. 

Flowers are blooming far and near. 
Birds are singing everywhere, 

Glad because the spring is here ; 
And to welcome you to-night 
We with h^rt and voice unite, 
While the skies above are bright, 
And the summer time drawls near. 

Standing in the May of life, 

We have only seen the sun ; 
By and by will come the strife, 

And the battle to be won. 
Let us then be glad and gay 
Ere the spring shall pass away, 
Singing always through the May ; 
Only once life's " May " shall come. 



BOBOLINK. 95 

BOBOLINK. 

THERE is music for the sea-breeze, 
There is music for the sea. 
There are songs for all the pine-trees. 
And there's one sweet song for me ; 
Bobolinkum ! bobolinkum ! full and glad and 

free, 
Well I know the song you're singing, bobolink, 
for me. 

He has flowm all day before me. 

And one thing is strange to me, — 
I can hear his song sound o'er me, 
But the bird I do not see ; 
Bobolinkum ! bobolinkum ! yes, you're lost to 

view, 
But I'll search the field and woodland, bobo- 
link, for you. 

There's a blackbird in the hollow, 

There's a robin by the rill. 
There's a thrush that you may follow 
By his merry-hearted trill ; 
But for mv one sweetest sins^er I have searched 



Hearing but the mocking echo of his song's 
clear strain. 



96 BOBOLINK. 

You may say that he is singing 

To his mate on some far tree, 
But I know his song is ringing 
Out its gladness just for me ; 
Bobolinkum ! bobolinkum ! sweet the rippling 

tune, 
Yes, my tiny woodland singer, I will find you 
soon. 

Lo ! I part the boughs in wonder, 

For my bobolink is flown 
To a nest the green trees under. 
House and household all his own ; 
Bobolinkum ! bobolinkum ! but I turn away, 
Mate and nestlings cluster round him, need I 
longer stay ? 

There is music for the sea-breeze, 

There is music for the sea. 
There are songs for all the pine-trees, 
But there's no sweet song for me ; 
Bobolinkum ! bobolinkum ! full and glad and 

free. 
But no longer you are singing, bobolink, for me. 



PICTURES AND THOUGHTS. 97 



PICTURES AND THOUGHTS. 

[At the Christmas before her death Millie arranged a 
picture-album, entitled " Pictures and Thoughts," the 
leaves ornamented with the pictures named in the head- 
ings below, and each alternate page containing an orig- 
inal sonnet appropriate to the surrounding pictures. It 
was her Christmas gift to her father and mother, and 
the verses are given as illustrative of her habit of see- 
ing God's hand in all the beautiful things he has made.] 

PANSIES. 

pANSIES for thoughts,— 

"^ Some bright, some pure and stainless, 

Some grand and high ; 
Some, breathing out their sweet heart-meanings, 

In meekness lie ; 
And each one telleth of his glory 

Who rules on high : 

Pansies for thoughts. 

BABY FACES. 

Oh the little winsome, baby faces 

That the Heavenly Father sends to earth ! 
Bringing light and joy to life's dark places, 

Who can tell or know their priceless worth ? 
Little guides are they to lead us nearer 

To the Father who hath sent them here ; 
Little lights to make the pathway clearer. 

Little songs of joy the world to cheer. 



98 PICTURES AND THOUGHTS. 

ROSES. 

The white rose is the emblem of Christ's life, 

All perfect, stainless, pure ; 
The red rose bears our thoughts to Calvary, 

Where he our sufferings bore ; 
And the fair tea-rose, touched with golden light, 
Tells of his triumph over death's dark night. 

BUTTERFLIES. 

Bright-tinted butterflies, 

Fain would I know 
What life hath taught to you, — 

Whisper it low. 
Soft cometh the answer down, 

Sweetest of things, — 
" That, in our greatest need, 

(jod giveth wings." 

FRUIT. 

There was an apple, long ago, 

So reads the fairy lore. 
That if one person touched or smelled 

He ne'er did sorrow more. 
I used to wish that unto me 

The apple might be lent ; 
But since, I've found one of my own. 

And it is called " Content." 



PICTURES AND THOUGHTS, 99 



BIRDS. 



The summer comes and goes, 

The joyful birds take wing 
Father, thou guidest them 

Into the land of spring. 
I watch them in their flight. 

And pray thee, as I stand. 
So guide me home, at last, 

To thy fair summer-land. 



FLOW^ERS. 

Oh little frail, sweet flowers, 

I wander joyfully 
To find your pure, fair faces, 

Wherever they may be ; 
For you lead me very near to him 

Who cares for you and me. 



ANIMALS. 

Through the forest, tall and stately, 
Roam the creatures God hath made ; 

In their need his care is o'er them, 
By his hand their wants are stayed ; 

No one lives its life neglected 
In the great plan he hath laid. 



100 PICTCRES AND THOUGHTS. 

FERNS. 

The ferns, 1 rhink, are teachers m the wood ; 

And, very low and clear. 
Lessons they give, so sweet, so full of truth, 

That all the flowers near 
And e'en the great trees catch the whispered 
words. 

And bend their heads to hear. 



AUTUMN LEAVES. 

The leaves fly down, 

All gold and brown, ^^ 

'-Twill snow," they cry, "we'd best be going.' 
"They do not know," 

The trees say low, _ ^^ 

" That spring comes always after snowing. 



CLOSING PAGE. 

Beautiful things of life, 
Lowlv, or great, or small. 
Oh teach our hearts to look above, 
And see God's pure, unchanging love 
Which lives within you all. 



C 32 89 



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DEC 88 



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^^^0^ INDIANA 46962 






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